And, We're Live!
by Sarigo
Summary: Alfred is an actor in a famous staged-reality series. His co-worker, Arthur, stars as a waiter. But sometimes, Arthur wonders if there is truth to Alfred's acting, or if it's all really just a show. UsUk, Should be around ten chapters.
1. Action!

**Plot summary.  
**Alfred is an actor in a famous staged-reality series. His co-worker, Arthur, stars as a waiter. But sometimes, Arthur wonders if there is truth to Alfred's acting, or if it's really just a show.

* * *

**An.  
**It took me forever to decide exactly what kind of reality series Alfred would be acting in. At first, I thought "Keeping Up With The Jones'" would be a funny title, but then I figured that it was just wrong. ;)

* * *

**Chapter 1.  
Action!**

The restaurant was very modernly designed. The seating was all dark brown, and the booths followed around the shape of the building, forming a semi-circle out of themselves. Beside the booth area, there were tables set up with brown chairs made from mahogany. On one of the flat walls, ninety degrees against the wall covered entirely in windows, sat a bar. The bar's design got darker as it reached the countertop.

The ceiling of the restaraunt resembled a chocolate bar, with the lights in each crease.

Alfred entered, and looked around as if he were curious.

"Hello there," he was greeted. He turned his head right to face a charming man in his early twenties. His eyes were a dark green, and his eyebrows were a thick mess. He felt guilty thinking it, but he was definitely more attractive than this man. Definitely. "Table for one...?"

Alfred turned his head sharply right, and pouted. "Yeah..."

"Oh. Well then...follow me."

He took him to a booth that would normally seat up to six. Alfred thought it was a little bit awkward to be sitting in such a large area by himself. He sat down and was promptly handed a menu.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I'll be your waiter tonight," he said, putting on his best smile, which was really more of a lop-sided half-happy-half-sad expression. "Can I get you started with anything to drink?"

Alfred nodded.

"Hell to the yes," he said, opening his menu to the said section. "I'll take a...well, what would you recommend?"

The waiter went into thought for a few seconds. "Well, we have an original beer here, if you're not a wine guy - it's called "The Knockout". It's a pale-"

"I'll take it."

Arthur looked bothered by the interruption, but quickly left to get him a drink.

Alfred turned towards the window, looking at it miserably, and began to speak to himself. "I don't know who he thinks he is, that Kiku...he acts all shy and stuff, and then out of the blue just...loses it."

He looked down at his hands, which were folded together at the fingers.

"Screw it, yo...I'm just gonna get wasted."

Arthur returned, and handed him his drink.

"Here you go, sir."

Alfred took it, and chugged the bottle down angrily. He looked at Arthur, all sadness in his eyes.

"Are you alright, by the way?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Yeah I am, why are _you_ asking?"

He didn't seem very amused with him.

"Well..."

Arthur looked around. Seeing that the restaurant was basically empty, he sat down with him. The other customers were seated in other sections and he wasn't able to handle them. His shift had only just started, though, and his side was sure to fill up.

"You look like you're being irresponsible," he said. "I mean...you look really hurt."

"Well I just got _dumped, _moron. That's why I'm chugging a beer, obviously. And I'll be needing another soon."

"And I'll gladly bring it to you. But...if you do need anyone to talk to while you're here..."

Arthur felt stupid. He stood up and shook his head. "I'm...just going to go get your drink."

He walked off. Arthur put his head on the table, and looked back at the window. "Some people are _so_ nosy," he complained.

The waiter and him shared no more words throughout the rest of his meal. He left, upset and drink, and had a tendency to bump into the bricks on the outside of the building.

* * *

"Annnddd - cut!"

The cameras all shut down. The extras left the constructed building and walked by the false ones, chattering about things that didn't sound too important. Alfred was rushed to by a crew of men and women and instantly had all of the blush wiped from his face. He reverted to his non-drunk stature, and smiled.

"So, dude - how was I?"

The director smiled. "As good as ever, Jones. Excellent job with the looking at the window-cams, it was a good approach. I was worried you'd look down at one of the others. And your drunken interactions were also very realistic. All of your interactions were."

Alfred grinned.

"So, man - what's up with the waiter guy? Am I suddenly gonna be best friends with him?"

"Well, we're thinking about it - he'll probably lose his job, and you'll end up taking him in as a roommate."

"Blegh. I just got rid of the other roommate," Alfred complained.

"Don't worry - it won't be any time soon."

"Good," he replied, then looked down. He was upset over something. "So, will Kiku ever come back...?"

"You just broke up, Jones - both in the show and the real world. I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Y-yeah..."

Arthur walked out of the fake building. He watched as the crowd around Alfred dispersed, and approached him.

"H-hey, Alfred?"

He turned around. "Oh, 'sup waiter dude?"

"Um, I have a friend who's a huge fan of your show, I was wondering if perhaps I could get your autograph?"

"Oh yeah, totally!" he said. "Here, follow me over to my dressing room - I've got headshots in there."

He paused, thinking over how awkward this sounded, but then followed him anyways. He stood outside, and was eventually met back up with.

"Okay, who am I signing this out to?"

"Oh, you're signing it out to me."

"I thought you said this was for a friend?" Alfred asked, perplexed.

"Pfft, like I'd give it to him. I was planning on showing it off. Francis is way too big of a jerk-off to give this kind of thing to."

Alfred laughed, and started writing. "Your name is...?"

Arthur looked at him, a little annoyed. "You already forgot, huh?"

Alfred smiled, idiotically.

"It's Arthur Kirkland."

"Right."

He handed him the page. Arthur grinned and nodded.

"Thanks. It's an honor being on the show with you."

"Yeah?" Alfred asked, sounding nonchalant. "Well, it was nice to meet you as well. Maybe we should go drinking some time, then?"

Arthur grinned with the idea. "If you don't mind hanging around a crazy drunk."

* * *

**End-of-Chapter Notes.  
**Ah, introduction chapters.  
This story is probably going to be around ten chapters long. The next chapter will be going more into Alfred's personal life, and exactly what happened with Kiku. As well, we'll meet Francis. :D  
Ha, America...your reality show is lame. xD  
Reviews? :3


	2. Embellishment

**Plot Summary**.  
Alfred is an actor in a famous staged-reality series. His co-worker, Arthur, stars as a waiter. But sometimes, Arthur wonders if there is truth to Alfred's acting, or if it's really just a show.

* * *

**An.  
**So, I'm a Germany fangirl, and an England fangirl.  
And I _swear_ I will marry someone from either of those two countries.  
_I will not rest until that is done. _*creepy face*

* * *

**Chapter 2.  
Embellishment**

Alfred stepped out of the shower and wrapped a white towel around his waist.

The bathroom in his apartment was probably the brightest thing ever - the walls were white, the floors were white, the decorations were - guess what? - white. He was the only color in the room, reflected in the mirror above the sink. He looked in it and smiled.

"Hello there," he said, as he pulled a black toothbrush out of the drawer. He began to brush his already clean teeth, all the while humming something that sounded like a cross between "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" and some eighties rock song. Rinse. Spit.

He left the bathroom, tightening his towel.

Looking around, he sighed and went to make himself breakfast - toast and eggs, since he was lazy in the mornings. He poured a glass of water and sat down at the table.

His morning-smile faded to a frown, as if he were remembering some horrid memory. "Oh...he's gone."

He looked down at his hands, which were trembling.

"My name...is Alfred Jones...and it's been thirty-nine days since Kiku left me. I'm too irresponsible for him, I guess..."

He got up, abandoning the food he had only just prepared, and approached a box.

"This here, this was his stuff. He...forgot a lot of it. I guess he was just in a rush to get out of here."

He pulled out a few items - a shirt, some books, and a ring.

"Oh, this," he said, lifting a ring up to a camera that was propped up to be a television. "This is - was - his engagement ring. I...I still wear mine," he said, holding his hand up to reveal a matching band. "I still...wear it. Partly because...if he ever _did_ decided to come back, I would want him to know that I haven't given up yet. I know thirty-nine days isn't that long...but I'll still be wearing this when I die an old man...and in part, so that I can remember it every day."

He stared at the ring, and put it back in the box. He hunched over, and put his hands in front of his face.

"Love...isn't real..." he said, buring his face. "It's _not_ real. It's just something some writer came up with so make relationships seem better."

His whole body heaved, as if he were about to throw up. Finally, his voice began to crack.

"It isn't real."

Alfred sat there for a long time, not saying a word. The director wondered if they should do a retake of the scene, but just as he was about to call a cut, his actor stood up, wiping his eyes.

"What am I saying?" he asked. "You can't do anything about it."

He looked around for his glasses, and put them on upon finding them on a coffee table. He changed from his towel into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

"Screw this. I'm gonna...go get drunk."

He stood up and left the house. It took a moment for the camera crew to actually get set up on him - he hadn't followed the script at all in the past few scenes.

Of course, he made his way to the restaurant he had eaten yesterday. He wasn't sure why he didn't just go to a bar, or why he hadn't sat at a bar the previous day. Obviously, the scriptwriter had something in mind with that place. Sometimes, the scripts made such little sense, that he wasn't even sure why people watched this damn show.

But, it was number one on nearly all of the charts.

"Hello, welcome to-oh...you again?"

Arthur immediately recognized him as the man from yesterday. How could he not?

"You're supposed to say welcome back."

"It's good to see you again. Um...are you alright with sitting where you were yesterday? Or would you rather sit at the bar?"

"What, you think I'm just here for the drink?"

"It was...just a question."

Alfred shook his head, annoyed. "Whatever - where I sat yesterday is fine."

Arthur looked hurt by his random outrage, but sat him down anyways. "Well, my name is once again, Arthur Kirkland. Can I get you something to drink?"

"You sound like a robot."

"...what?"

"You're always like, can I get you something to drink? I mean seriously, bro-"

"I'll get you a knockout."

He left him there, then came back with a drink. As he was about to leave again, Alfred tapped on the table loudly to get his attention.

"You know...life sucks," he said to the waiter. Arthur sighed, and whilest completely ignoring his better intentions, sat down with him.

"Why don't you just talk to someone?" he asked. Alfred felt weird, being spoken to by someone on script for so long. Someone who actually acted interested.

"What?"

"Just tell someone what your problem is."

Alfred shook his head.

"I...I don't want to be judged."

Arthur sighed and stood up. "Alright, but just so you know - it's way to early to get drunk."

* * *

"And, cut! End scene."

Arthur removed his apron and stepped out of the false building. He was starving out of his mind, and didn't even want to think about the filming today.

Alfred stood surrounded by the make-up crew, big smile thrown on his face. "That man is one hell of an actor," Arthur said, exiting the studios and making his way home. His house was an apartment, leaning towards the nicer side. It was great for a beginning actor, since most started out in whatever they could get.

His kitchen was small, though it would have appeared a lot bigger if not for the massive kitchen island. He went in and made a sandwich - this being one of the few things he could actually make - and turned on the TV in the living room.

It was only six, but an evening talk show was airing. The host sat in his ridiculous chair and welcomed the questionably-existing audience. His hair was messy and long, a white-blonde that trailed effortlessly down to his shoulders. His eyes were blue, and his firm jaw was highlighted by his stubble.

"Hello, everyone! Welcome to Celebrities Speak! I'm your host, Francis Bonnefoy!"

There was a ring of clapping and cheering as he smiled fakely. His teeth, like Alfred's, were near perfect.

"I'd normally start the show off with some gossip, but tonight we have a very, _very_ special guest. So please, put your hands together for...Alfred Jones!"

More clapping followed as Alfred made his way onto the stage, grinning happily. He blew kisses, and the screen flashed to a few girls screaming as they caught the air and clutched it to their hearts.

"So there _is_ an audience," Arthur remarked. "I always thought it was one of those weird audio effects."

Alfred sat down after a heart-felt handshake with Francis. The cheers died down after what seemed like forever. It was strange how a reality TV star could have so many adoring fans. If anything, it should have shown that he was just a human.

"Hello Alfred," Francis said, to kill the noise. It went silent.

Alfred made a goofy smile. "Hello, Francis."

"So, before we begin the interview, I think it would be great if you would tell those people watching exactly what your show is - just in case anyone hasn't seen it."

"There are people out there who haven't seen it?" Alfred retorted, receiving a few laughs. It died down. "Basically, I work on a staged reality show on the life of a man trying to get into acting. The real catch of the show is - everything is as close to the truth as possible. The steps I have to go through every day to try and get into the latest productions...things like that."

"Do you ever get in any productions on the show?"

"I do, but they aren't shown. The deal is, companies will send us a message asking me - not the character, but the real me - to advertise their products. So, on the show we will announce that I'm going in for a commercial shoot, and in the real world - not on the show - I'll be in an actual commercial."

"That's kind of...Inception-y."

"For real."

The two sat there laughing awkwardly for a couple of seconds. Francis grinned as he held up a topic-card.

"So, I have a question."

"Go on?"

"In your show, you're bisexual. How close is that to how you actually-"

"Yeah, I'm bi. It's really more of a personality thing to me, doesn't matter what they're born with."

A few scattered claps.

"Well, you're certainly proud of it."

"Of course. I mean, if you're not proud, you'll never go anywhere in life. You've got to have confidence in literally everything you do."

The claps grew louder.

"Another question."

"Alright."

"The character, Kiku - how close are you in real life? I know you had to have a few romantic scenes-"

"Whatever the channel would allow." Alfred interrupted with a wink.

"-So did you two ever start to develop feelings?"

Alfred's smile twitched a little. It looked as if his eyes went just a notch duller, less life put into them. "No..." he said, pausing with a deep dramatic effect. His smile was still there, but it seemed a bit less real. "We're just, uh...we're just friends." He ended the statement with a nod, as if to say he were done.

* * *

**end-of-chapter notes.  
**Gasp le!  
I just had one of the worst weeks of my entire life. Seriously. My grandparents got into a fight with my brother and accused him of something he didn't do. Then, after I stood up for him and called my parents, they got into a fight, kicked me and my brother out, and disowned us. We sat outside for an hour waiting for someone to pick us up - we're four hours away from home, so we had to stay with one of my parents' friends.  
But whatever. I'd have slept outside before staying there any longer.  
-Reviews? :)


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